


If Only Someone Loved You

by AuroraKant



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: (sadly Canon Stuff), Aliens, Angst, BAMF Dick Grayson, Brotherly Bonding, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson has (Super)Powers, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything you ever needed when it came to sad Dick Grayson, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Dick Grayson, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Justice League, YeetDC2020, superpower au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Dick Grayson had been prepared to be a part of the Justice League delegation negotiating the conflict between Quander and X'arr.He hadn't been prepared for the fallout of the revelation that he was what they called ax'qualla'mor.He hadn't been prepared for the horror. The hopelessness. The fear.He hadn't been prepared for the people ready to catch him if he fell.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Garth & Dick Grayson
Comments: 54
Kudos: 616





	If Only Someone Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I am writing, I am living, I am writing ANGST!  
> This was originally for the "fifth" (speak second) day of Dick Grayson Week, but you'll get it like this!  
> This is super angsty and deals with suicide, rape, and the moral implications of consent!  
> Stay safe, guys, and get help if any of this hits too close to home!  
> I hope you enjoy this and feedback is always welcome! <3
> 
> (and yes the title is a frozen reference... sue me)  
> Edit 01/13/2021: THANK YOU SO MUCH GEM FOR THIS WONDERFUL EDIT!!!

Diplomatic missions were always weird. No matter where they went or who came to visit earth, Dick could never quite manage to shake off that feeling of wrongness. It had nothing to do with the aliens themselves, and everything with the small circus boy he had once been.

E.T. had been his only source of information when it came to extraterrestrials and the world only realized that Superman was more than human after Dick had come to live with Bruce. It had been a shock to wake up one day and suddenly aliens were real.

And now Dick was a respected and well-liked member of the Justice League (and more importantly: the Leader of the Titans), who regularly traveled the universe to converse with other species.

Each time he boarded a spaceship or saw a new planet with his own eyes, Dick realized how small the world had been when he was younger. It was weird to think that in less than a lifetime the world had gone from believing that they were the only ones in the universe to having politic relations with quite a few other species.

This time, however, Dick hadn’t been asked to travel through galaxies to help during negotiations, no, the fighting parties had asked for earth to pose as a neutral agent to discuss their disagreement on. The Justice League – after a lot of pleading from Guy and Hal – had agreed to offer the Watchtower as a court and a select collection of heroes as a jury.

Dick was one of them.

He always was, really. His friends said it was because of his smile and his friendly nature, his enemies said it was his charm and his _ass_ ets. All Dick knew, was that he was the one everyone chose to act as a mediator when a conflict needed to be resolved.

And now he stood on the Watchtower, flanked by Tempest and Wonder Woman, waiting for the delegations of the Sovereign Nation of X’arr and the Union of Inter-galactical Space travel Quander. Their ships were late, but Dick guessed that getting your arrival time just right was hard when you had lightyears to calculate.

But still, waiting was boring, and Dick was more than ready to break the mind-numbing silence:

“So…”

Of course, that was the moment the delegations finally arrived – in two vessels joined by the space travel equivalent of a towline to ensure that neither of them would have any advantage by arriving early when it came to the negotiations.

The group from X’arr was the first to emerge from their ship, tall beings with beautiful lilac skin and hands that ended in giant green claws. Their heads were held high, their one eye a solid blue, never blinking. It was fascinating to watch them slither down the gangway only dressed in dark robes. Dick tried to figure out their social standing just accordingly to their clothes, but it was impossible. It was too intricate and too foreign.

The delegation from Quander didn’t wait long to leave their ship either, a group of five that was more humanoid than the people of X’arr. Instead of purple, their scales had a red hue to them, and their two eyes were black, with tiny orbs of light. They were also dressed in robes, but where X’arr’s were pretty and detailed, Quander wore big splashes of color combined with mismatched patterns that tried to outshine each other.

Dick was stunned. Aliens. _Every time_.´

But before he could completely forget what he had been doing, Diana stepped forward:

“Greetings, dear visitors of Earth! We welcome you to our vessel and we will promise you fairness, if you promise the same. I am the one they call Wonder Woman, and with me stand the fighter Nightwing and the warrior Tempest!”

Both he and Garth nodded their heads in a hopefully respectful manner, when Diana said their names. No matter what Diana did, she would always sound majestic and proud. Hell, Dick felt bigger and better whenever Wonder Woman made him a compliment. Or introduced him. 

The two delegations answered as such. The X’arr offered a deep bow with their foreheads almost touching the floor as a greeting, while the Quander raised their arms above their heads, shaking them wildly. After this quite suspect welcoming ritual was finished, both of the groups send one of their own to truly greet Diana.

Dick and Garth were just as sidelined as the rest of the foreign delegations.

“We are the X’arr. We are X’andriel, the leader of our lands. My people greet you, my land cherishes you, my mother sends her blessings.”

“From Quander comes the great Quell, we have brought our men, we have thought our thanks, and we will kiss every floor your feet meet.”

Dick tried – hopefully successfully – to hide the grin on his face when the communicator in his ear translated the greetings into English. He was sure that they were fancy and cool greetings in their native languages, but the translator really made them sound a bit odd. Next to him he could feel Garth suppress a chuckle as well. Only Diana seemed unfazed, but then again: She was the freaking Wonder Woman.

“Many thanks for your good graces and wishes. Shall we continue this meeting in the courtroom? We have prepared refreshments and dinner according to the recipes of your home worlds that were sent to us. I hope they are satisfactory.”

The mention of food sent obvious waves of excitement through the two groups in front of them. Dick could definitely understand. Food, it seemed, was a universal constant.

Diana led the procession towards the ‘courtroom’ – one of the many meeting rooms in the Watchtower – while Garth and Dick took the rear. It was an obvious tactical choice and one they resorted to without having to talk about it. They might be getting a few fugitive glances here and there for it, but at the end of the day caution was what kept a hero alive.

The room itself was big enough to fit a small army and the two alien groups quickly split up to claim different sides of the room. The refreshments on the desk intelligently placed in the middle of the room were quick to vanish.

Wonder Woman, Tempest and Nightwing had taken the front of the space and built a small area just for them, so they could enact their jury duties without interference. Dick enjoyed the calm before the storm, watching the delegates enjoy the feast, chattering in foreign languages too far away to understand. There was something poetic in the way they interacted, all of them. He was almost sad when Wonder Woman once again asked for the attention of everyone:

“Now that you are refreshed, we would like to set the terms for this negotiation. Today we may only be able to hear the problem that has transpired between both sides, recounted by a chosen one per party, but this is necessary so we can start working on a solution in the next few days. Are these terms that are acceptable? Any questions or inquiries?”

Silence had fallen over the room, the two groups exchanging looks, before the leader of the delegation of Quander finally raised their hand.

“Yes?”

“From Quander comes the great Quell, asking a question: Can the mood enhancer stop influencing us? Or is it earth custom for a _x’qualla’mor_ to be in attendance and working during negotiations?”

What?

Dick wasn’t quite sure if he followed, especially since his translator hadn’t been able to translate one of the words Quell had offered. One glance to the side told him that Diana and Garth were equally lost.

“I am sorry? Could you repeat that? We do not know what a _x’qualla’mor_ is.”

Diana’s voice was polite when she asked the question, but Dick liked to think that he knew her well enough to see how her shoulders tensed up. Quell, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide the look they shared with their people – and the guys from X’arr. It could only be described as utter confusion.

“A _x’qualla’mor_. Him.”

Their red-scaled hand pointed directly at Dick.

What?

“What?”

“A mood enhancer. A magic, who makes people _like_ him. It is dark stuff. Forcing people to love you. But the great Quell can see how it would be useful in a negotiation. For the good and the bad.”

What the actual fuck? Dick could basically feel how the blood drained from his face. This couldn’t be right. This had to be fake. It had to. Dick would have known if he was capable of doing that. Bruce would have known. Dick wasn’t a meta and he had no magical bone in his body-

“This can’t be right. I am human. Like, 100% human. My dad did every imaginable test on me: No meta-gene, no Homo Magi, no Amazon, no Atlantean. I am the most human one could possibly be!”

Maybe Dick was panicking a little bit. And maybe claiming to be more human than both Amazons and Atlanteans was less than tactful, especially since he was standing next to representatives of both of these groups. But the accusation of manipulating people into liking him had really thrown him for a loop.

It wasn’t Quell, however, who answered him, but X’andriel:

“But you are. We of X’arr understand magic in the ways of waves. And your waves, Fighter Nightwing, are those of a _x’qualla’mor_. It is a forbidden art both on X’arr and Quander, too dangerous and cruel, but as our scholars understand it, most _x’qualla’mor_ were graced by their powers through other means than birth or apprentice.”

Dick still didn’t understand. What the hell was going on? What were they trying to tell him? There was dread pooling in his stomach, fear clogging up his mind. It was Diana’s cool hand on his shoulder that let him return to the present. And it was her voice, who finally managed to ask the important questions:

“And what does that mean exactly? Can it be proven? How would these powers show themselves?”

Both Quell and X’andriel shared a look, unified in their mistrust of the jury they had so passionately sought.

“Please. This is of utmost importance for me and for my friend.”

It was Quell who took pity on them and shared a few more horrid truths:

“Another magic should be able to see it using the right spell. It surrounds him like a bad smell. Very pungent. He is probably the strongest _x’qualla’mor_ we have ever met. Maybe because we usually kill them before they grow this old. This powerful.”

A murmur went through the room, and Dick knew he wasn’t imagining the approval in their voices.

Oh, God. This was not good. Not good at all. Shit. Fuck.

Yeah, he was having a panic attack. In front of two alien delegations, Wonder Woman, and one of his best friends. Shit.

Diana’s hand squeezed his shoulder, creating a tether for his mind to hold onto. God, he was so grateful for her. And even without having to look, Dick knew that Garth was currently staring daggers at the aliens, who had dared to upset his friend. 

“But that does still not explain what a _x’qualla’mor_ does? Can you explain?”

“A _x’qualla’mor_ forces you to love them.”

“Let us explain. X’arr has a far greater understanding of the matter!”

X’andriel had interrupted Quell, annoyance audible in their voice.

“As the scholars of X’arr have researched this topic for centuries, we do know quite a bit about the… workings of a _x’qualla’mor_. They – usually subconsciously – influence other people into liking or even loving them. No matter what they do or who they converse with, the person ends up being influenced in favor of the _x’qualla’mor_. We could not find any indication that the feelings of the influenced person were real in any sense.”

Dick’s mind was running through scenarios and memories, his nausea intensifying with everything he remembered. Bruce taking him in even though he didn’t like anybody. Deathstroke’s weird fascination with him. Midnighter’s willingness to help. Tiger’s inability to kill him. His instant friendship with the Titans. Barbara. The Outsiders.

Damian. The boy had only ever opened up for Dick. Had only ever connected with him.

And now he was dead.

“X’arr’s scholars even found the contrary to be true: After we killed the _x’qualla’mor_ under tears like the rules require, every person touched by their powers was suddenly purged from their guilt, and only the truth remained: They had barely cared for the _x’qualla’mor_ at all.”

Oh God… Did that…? Did that mean that…? Barbara and Kory? And Shawn? Helena? He had had sex with them. And if what they were saying was true, that meant that none of them had been able to give consent. That Dick had effectively raped them.

Oh God.

And what did that make Mirage and Tarantula?

Had Dick forced his own rapists to rape him? What?

Suddenly the nausea was no longer a slow thing building up. He needed to throw up. Faster than he had ever run before, Dick ran out of the room, ignoring the yelled “Nightwing!” from both Diana and Garth. The last thing he heard before the lock of one of the bathroom stalls closed behind him, were the angry voices of the Quander delegation:

“And that is where X’arr goes wrong! Use what you are able to use! The great Quell of Quander-“

The next thing he knew, his head was resting on the cold tiles of the bathroom, his stomach heaving, his throat burning, the sour tang of bile in the air.

Tears were running down his cheeks and Dick felt utterly, utterly lost.

He was a monster and he hadn’t even known it.

When Diana and Garth had finally managed to get Dick out of the bathroom stall, he had been a crying mess. Every touch of comfort had felt like poison, every whispered word of encouragement had made Dick feel sick again.

But they wouldn’t leave him be. They wouldn’t let him leave.

The delegations had been sent to their rooms, and Dick had gotten some sedative that made him feel numb instead of hysterical. Now all he could do was stare at the wall, wait for Zatanna to show up, and shrug off every touch Garth tried to offer.

(Diana had to leave again - League business – Dick was grateful for that at least)

“It’s gonna be alright, Dick. They probably talked utter bullshit. Trust me.”

It was hard to trust someone when you were suddenly forced to confront the fact that you yourself weren’t trustworthy at all. What was he supposed to say? ‘Yeah, Garth, I trust you because I now know that I forced every person in my life to love me and that makes me a serial rapist, thanks’. No. Staring was easier than saying those words.

“Dick. Dickie. Will you please at least look at me?”

It felt like drowning to focus on Garth’s scared face. His friend radiated concern and love. Just seeing that made Dick want to hurl again, but he forced himself to hold the eye contact:

“I can understand how shitty this is. I mean it sucks to think that not everything of this giant amount of love I feel for you is naturally born, but even if you somehow influenced me into liking you at first – and you didn’t – I would still love you even if you took that love away. Because we have known each other for over ten years. Because you were the first person to ever believe in me, except for Arthur, of course. You were my hero. You still are. I love you, dude. No matter what.”

Dick was crying again, and he could clearly see that Garth was as well. It hurt to think of their first adventures together, of Garth being scared to fight monsters and yet doing it anyways, as something not real.

“And, hey,”

Garth’s voice was rough from the tears, but Dick could hear the amusement when he said:

“It can’t be real anyways because how could you explain Jason. That dude definitely doesn’t love you.”

It was a lousy try to make Dick feel better, but Dick forced a smile. It was the thought that counted.

Zatanna chose that moment to arrive. She was stunning like always, the smile on her face more comforting than flirty for once.

“Hey, guys. Wonder Woman informed me that you need my help?”

Garth rose up from his position on the floor in front of Dick to greet her. Dick watched as Garth hugged Zatanna before whispering something in her ear. He was grateful for not having to explain anything. He wouldn’t be able to. The moment someone made him recount what happened, his brain would start thinking again. And as soon as it was thinking again, the all-encompassing panic would return. And the guilt. Oh, the guilt.

He must have gotten lost anyway, because the next thing he knew Zatanna was standing in front of him, smiling that smile she had ever only shared with him:

“Then let’s get a good look at you.”

It was really cool to see Zatanna do magic because her eyes started to glow, and her hair flew around as if caught in a storm. It was truly a magical – hah! – experience and even now Dick could feel himself become transfixed with the aura surrounding her.

“Evol ot ecrof eh seod? _Rom’allauq’x_ a sllac esrevinu eht tahw eh si?”

Some of her aura enwrapped him, glowing first in a soft blue color before catching on fire until the whole room was illuminated by orange light bleeding out of Dick’s pores.

Something told Dick that this probably wasn’t a good sign.

The glow started to recede, the wind that had been howling died down, and Zatanna blinked a few times until she looked like herself again and not like a powerful lord of magic. The look on her face was grim, nothing of her previous confidence left.

“And?”

Dick’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Rough and sad and silent.

Zatanna’s sigh was answer enough, and yet she still decided to say the words:

“I’m so sorry, I have never seen anything like it before. It seems as if the delegates of X’arr and Quander were-“

Dick stopped listening. He didn’t even know why he tried to do so in the first place. The sound of Zatanna’s voice was washing over him, his last hope being burned down like the library of Alexandria. 

So, Dick _had_ manipulated everyone in his life. Dick _was_ a monster who forced people to sleep with him. Dick _was_ at fault for all these horrible things and he _had_ taken the free will and the independence of so many people and he hadn’t even known he did it.

He was drowning.

He was a monster.

He was… he was… he wasn’t worth whatever happened next.

X’arr and Quander did the right thing when they killed their… whatever’s.

It didn’t feel real when he heard Zatanna and Garth continue talking. Nothing felt real. He had moved beyond numb, deep into the territory of dissociation, unable to reconnect the Dick Grayson of before with the one that was left after this horrible revelation.

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

“But what does that make the people that don’t ‘like’ him? Like Jason? Or Ra’s? Or… wow, for a hero many of his bad guys really do like him a lot, huh?”

“I’m not sure, but I could imagine that people who died and came back lost their connection to this plane of existence long enough for Dick’s aura to no longer be effective. His powers are basically blind to anyone who died before.”

“Huh… oh, shit, Dick? Buddy?”

Someone was shaking him, asking for his attention but it was so hard to free himself from the deep crevices of his mind that had welcomed him and helped him hide away. He never wanted to resurface again. He wanted to stay in this corner of his brain where everything was alright. Where he wasn’t a monster. Where he hurt nobody.

“He’s dissociating. Hardcore. We should get him to a room. Let him sleep the shock off.”

“I… okay.”

There was a hand in his, guiding him from the chair he had been sitting on down a hallway.They reached a room Dick could vaguely recognize as the one he used to sleep in after long missions. The whole time Garth’s voice whispered sweet nothings into his ear:

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out. It’s alright. It’s… I’m sorry, Dick. We… We’ll figure this out. I promise…”

And all Dick could think the entire time Garth showed his support and Zatanna offered her silent help, was that he was forcing them to do this. He was making them care for him. He was twisting their will.

Dick was sick of himself.

They thought he had finally gone to sleep. They had sat at his bedside for hours, silently talking between themselves, until Dick had managed to even out his breathing enough to fool them.

And now they had finally left him alone. This was all Dick needed to escape. His body reacted belated when he forced himself into a sitting position, the room swaying.

Everything still felt unreal, the world miles away, and his brain out of touch with what was actually happening. Dick knew these as the signs of shock and dissociation. But he also knew he had to get away. He had to leave. He had to make sure nobody would ever be hurt by his existence ever again.

But for that he had to leave the Watchtower behind.

His steps were silent when he made his way from the hero quarters to the Zeta tubes. He knew how to get around the Watchtower and he knew which areas he needed to avoid. If he remembered correctly the Flash was currently on watch duty and as much as it pained Dick to say, Wally wasn’t the most attentive person when it came to scanning and analyzing the inner-Watchtower data.

Today that came to Dick’s advantage.

He went through the motions of a silent escape without ever truly thinking about what he did. All he could think about was the fact that he had to leave. He had to get as far away as possible. Maybe he had to get so far away he could never come back.

Maybe he should… 

But before he could finish that thought, voices warned him of people coming down the hallway he was currently in. It didn’t take long for him to find a broom closet to hide inside, and when the voices rounded the corner, Dick was no longer visible.

It was Garth and Zatanna that came walking down the hall. Their faces were drawn and their conversation in full swing:

“- and why did they say that they killed their _x’qualla’mor_? I mean, they liked them well enough, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they said it hurt when they did it, but it was also freeing. Manipulating the feelings of someone and forcing your will on someone else are some of the worst crimes you can commit on-“

Garth and Zatanna turned around the next corner before Dick could hear how that sentence would end. Not that he needed to hear it. One thing was clear: He had to get out of their lives.

 _He had to die_.

That seemed to be the only way to free all these people he had forced to love him. This seemed to be the only way he could save them from himself.

Dick’s cheeks were once again wet when he reached the Zeta tubes. He didn’t want to die. But it would be for the best. It would be for all the people _he_ loved. And, hey, maybe he would see Damian again.

His hands entered the Zeta-codes for Gotham without him noticing. Dick was no longer an active participant in his own life. All he had were two objectives: Getting out of the Watchtower, and – maybe – dying. And his body was going through the motions of completing both of them.

After materializing behind a dirty dumpster not too far away from the Wayne Enterprise building, the first point had been achieved. Now he only needed to complete the second one and do the world a favor by ending his own life. 

He wanted to jump.

It wasn’t the first time Dick had felt compelled to just let himself fall, but this was the furthest he had ever come. Normally someone stopped by when it got really bad, or Dick reached out and asked one of his friends to hug him. Not now. Not ever again.

Because none of them truly loved him. None of them deserved for him to lean on them. They didn’t need him calling, just to beg that someone gave him a reason to keep on living. They were all biased anyways.

With each building Dick grappled closer to Wayne Tower, the fear got stronger. But so did the guilt. He remembered how crushed he had felt after Mirage had violated him, how he had slept with her, but only because he loved the person he thought she was.

Wasn’t that the exact same thing he had done to every person he had had sex with _ever_?

Hadn’t he raped every girl he had ever loved because he had taken the ability to consent from her?

Wasn’t he just as bad as Mirage and Tarantula? For what they did to him only happened because of what he did to them?

His head was a mess, his thoughts chasing one another, not one of them easy, not one of them good.

Dick liked to think of himself as a good guy. As someone people liked. As a dude who saved people. As the light to Batman’s dark. But right now? Right now, all Dick could see was the darkness that had apparently been inside of him all along.

All he could see was the clear disgust on the faces of the delegates of X’arr and Quander when they discussed his pure existence.

He reached the top of Wayne Tower, the highest building in Gotham. The wind was strong when he toed the line that kept him from falling. He was standing on the edge of the boundary, staring down onto the Gotham streets by night. Early morning. Late enough that Batman had returned home, and yet not early enough for the city to truly wake up.

This was the perfect hour for a suicide.

No. It wasn’t suicide. It was a safety measure. It was a favor to humanity. It was a good deed. 

Dick could only see a couple of people from his vantage point. Not one of them even close to the point where his fall would end. No one had to see it. No one would be there to stop him.

He was no longer crying, he was sobbing. He didn’t want to die, but it felt as if it was the only option. People like him had to die. Manipulating someone’s mind was the worst crime of them all, making them feel and consent and love when they could not.

Dick was a fiercely independent person and he had taken that away from hundreds of people.

_This was the best choice. It was the only one._

…

His phone was ringing. Dick had forgotten that he had it with him, normally leaving it at home when he had business to attend to as Nightwing. Not today, it appeared. He couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at when he pulled it out of his pocket and Jason’s name was written on the display.

Jason.

Jason, who didn’t love him. Who had no obligation to love him. Who was free of Dick’s power.

Dick clicked accept:

“Hi?”

“Dickface? I have been trying to reach you for fucking ages. _Ages_. I need help on a drug bust and your ass might be annoying as hell, but at least you’re not fucking Bats.”

It… it was so weird to hear Jason’s voice, to hear someone who was not living inside of Dick’s head. He… his eyes grazed the abyss before him, taking in the wind, the depth, the certain death, and he couldn’t quite swallow the whine that escaped his throat.

He really, truly didn’t want to die.

“Dick? Dickface?”

“Jay… I think I might be doing something dumb…”

This time Jason must have heard something in Dick’s voice because Dick could hear the shock through the phone when Jason cursed.

“Dick. The fuck? Where the fuck are you? Shit!”

“The top… the top of the Wayne Enterprise Tower… I…”

“If you jump before I reach you, I will fucking bring you back to life just so I can kill you again…”

Dick just hm-ed. His eyes had found the streets below him again, watching as a car went by, unaware of the drama that was currently taking place 400ft above it. Jason’s frantic voice became a background noise as Dick continued to stare into the abyss.

This morning his life had been alright. He had had a good breakfast at his favorite café in Blüdhaven, he had finally slept more than five hours again, and he had been eager to see Garth, even if it meant being assigned to a boring diplomatic mission and now…

Now he knew that his entire life had been a lie. That he wasn’t the person he thought he was, and neither were the people he knew. He… everything he knew was fake. Everything he had done was the act of a monster.

Who was Dick Grayson if his charisma, his easy smile, his life were a lie?

Dick didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out.

A sudden burst of wind made him loose his balance, and only his tight and desperate hold on the railing saved him from falling of a 40-storey-building. Fuck. Shit.

 _He didn’t want to die_.

And wasn’t that just the worst? Here he was, knowing that his existence was a fucking curse, and he still couldn’t kill himself.

A shout tore itself free from his throat, echoing through the silent city, heard by nobody but himself.

He didn’t want to die. But he would do it.

To save the world. To save his friends.

To maybe even save himself.

He unclenched his fingers, one after the other, until his hands were no longer touching the railing. There was nothing that tethered him to the earth except his feet, nothing keeping him bound except his own fear.

He loved falling. Maybe he would love this, too.

“DICK!”

A hand grabbed the back of his costume, and an endless moment later Dick’s back was pressed against the gravel of the rooftop, a heavy figure cowering over him. It was Jason. Of course, it was Jason. He had said he would come.

“You absolute idiot. You absolute fucking idiot. Shit. Oh, fuck.”

It was weird. Dick thought he could see concern behind the anger in Jason’s eyes. But why would Jason be concerned? He didn’t have to love Dick. He should have no problem with him dying.

“Are you okay? I mean, you’re obviously not, but, fuck, are you hurt?”

Dick was numb when he shook his head, again confused by the relief that was evident on his little brother’s face. Jason had come. Jason had saved him. Dick was… he didn’t know why. Jason was the one person who was supposed to be safe. Who wasn’t affected by whatever the hell was wrong with him.

“Why…?”

“Oh, so you can talk.”

Jason rolled off Dick, but he didn’t get up. Instead he sat down, staring at Dick as if Dick was the one who had some explaining to do. Okay, so maybe he had. But he asked Jason first. It was a stare down between Dick’s exhausted gaze and the angry fire that motivated Jason.

Dick won.

“Shit. I can’t let you fucking off yourself. Bruce would kill me. And then himself. The replacement, too. They couldn’t take another loss so soon after the brat. Is that why? You miss your kid too much?” 

“It… no. Though, that was one of the things in favor of jumping.”

Dick let out a dry chuckle not caring that it ended in a wet sob.

“Fuck. I don’t want to die.”

“Aha”

He knew that Jason was staring at him. He could feel the disbelieve and the pain radiating from him, and for the first time since the courtroom Dick took a breath and didn’t feel like choking. It hurt. It hurt so, so bad. But it was no longer happening to someone else; Dick had taken back the controls. He was the one on the driver’s seat again. It seemed as if being knocked on his ass did clear his head. At least a little.

“It’s... I was on a diplomatic mission today, when-“

And Dick told Jason everything. Or nearly everything. Every detail he could remember, every disjointed thought that came to mind. And Jason listened. His little brother sat by his side and waited until every word and every tear had left his body. Until the numb feeling in his limbs no longer came from shock and pain, but from pure exhaustion.

And when his words stopped, and his gaze returned from the slowly brightening sky, Jason was still there, a deeply thoughtful expression on his face.

“A few things here, Dickie-boy: That is a fucked-up situation, sure, but you ain’t gonna solve it by throwing yourself off a building.” 

Yeah, Dick could see that now, could see that his panicked brain had only seen one resolution where there might be many. But hurt minds worked like this. Or at least Dick’s did.

“And the next thing I wanna do is get you somewhere where you can’t accidentally off yourself in the next few hours – which makes my safe-house anything besides safe, but at least it isn’t high enough for your kind of fun. But before I can do that, I have something to say:”

Jason made sure to hold Dick’s gaze when he said that, as if he needed to know that Dick truly was listening. And Dick was tired enough to do just that for once in his life:

“Yeah, I wasn’t your biggest fan when I came back, but I was nobodies’ biggest fan. I killed people by the dozens, Dickie. And when you still came to my door time and time again? Yeah, I started liking you just fine again. But since I can’t be affected by whatever your fucking ‘power’ does anymore, that means that it was you, who annoyed me into liking you.”

There was a hand on his shoulder and Dick didn’t have to blink through the tears to know that it was Jason’s.

“And we’re heroes, aren’t we? Every second one of us has died and came back still adoring you! Superman came back! Donna came back! Bruce came back! Wally came back! Barry won’t fucking stay dead! Hell, B is currently working on bringing Damian back… we’re gonna figure something out but until then just know, that it's impossible not to like you, with or without your shitty powers.”

Dick was openly crying now – again – and by the look of it, Jason shed a few tears himself. This didn’t make it okay. It was far, _far_ away from being okay, but it made Dick feel like himself again. It made him think that maybe – _maybe_ – there was hope out there.

That maybe it could be okay someday in the future.

“And one last thing: If you ever call yourself a fucking rapist again, I’m gonna hunt you down and wash your mouth with soap until you forget that word. What these women did to you is not – no, it’s not! – the same as you having consensual sex with your partners. And no, I’m not gonna change my mind on that.” 

Dick didn’t share his opinion. Just the thought of sex – and the fact that he had coerced every single one of his significant others into sleeping with him – made him want to vomit. But he was too tired to fight. Too tired to battle Jason in a war of wills. Too emotionally bled out.

“Okay…”

“And now get your ass up. I have a couch waiting for your tired ass.”

Dick let himself be pulled up from the floor, he let himself pulled on a bike, into an apartment, and he let himself be pushed onto a couch.

He was so tired. He was so angry, so sad, so scared… so numb from feeling too much.

He closed his eyes, knowing that sleep would drag him under, knowing that soon he would know no more. The last thing he heard before he was finally allowed to sink into oblivion, was Jason as he closed the door and whispered:

“Sleep tight, Dickhead. And I… do love you.”

Maybe there was hope.


End file.
